


An Unexpected Guest

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cats, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: FitzSimmons don't really care for cats, but they're not about to leave one out in the cold in her hour of need. Even if they want to.





	An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [recoveringrabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/gifts).



> Happy national cat adoption month!

 

 

The cat, as it turned out, was pregnant.

Fitz wasn't sure why he had to be the one to figure it out, but then, this seemed to be another curse the universe had given him. His Academy roommate's cat—an illegal animal—had gotten him so sick that he hadn't been able to stay up late enough to study long enough to beat Jemma and be the top of their class. His nan's cat had eaten, _literally eaten_ , the presentation on nuclear robotics he'd been working in for months. And then, of course, there had been the time Jemma had used a cat's liver to contaminate his lunch. Clearly, both the universe and cats were out to get him. Only, why had they targeted him, when Jemma had been the one who had cut so many of them up?

By all accounts, it didn't make sense.

But unfortunately for Fitz, what _did_ make sense was that the abdomen of their neighborhood pest was swollen for a very specific reason. Academy Fitz, or SciOps Fitz, or even Playground Fitz might not have noticed the signs, but Married Fitz happened to have a pregnant wife, and the trappings were all too familiar. The question was not whether he was right, but what he was expected to do about it.

"I think we have to take her in," he said with disgust as he flipped through the TV channels. Jemma lifted her head off his shoulder and squinted at him.

"Take who in?"

Fitz skimmed over the synopsis for a documentary on monkeys. "The cat, of course. Already seen this one."

"What cat?"

He paused, gaping at the screen. Why would anyone agree to a worm-eating competition? Why did Fitz feel a strange need to watch it?

"The cat, Jemma." He almost asked her for her opinion on the worm-eating, but feared he would only pique her scientific curiosity. He kept searching.

"What cat?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "The _cat_ , Jemma. The stray cat that was fighting with that other cat a few weeks ago, in the middle of the night. Only they may not have been fighting."

"Ah," she said. "And why do we need to take her in?"

He stopped, wondering what kind of show would be called _Conveyor Belt of Love_. "Because she's pregnant."

"How do you know she's pregnant?"

"Because she looks like—" He forcibly shut his mouth and turned his eyes away from her round belly. "She looks like a pregnant cat."

For a brief, blissful moment, Fitz thought he'd actually gotten away with it. But then Jemma sat up, folded her arms, and glared at him.

"Because she looks like me, you mean."

"No," he said carefully, "I didn't say that. She obviously wouldn't look like you, since you're not a cat."

In the silence that followed, Fitz could only close his eyes and pray she would be merciful.

"Fitz," she finally said, "I am aware that I'm pregnant. I'm not ashamed of the biological consequences of being so."

Fitz sighed. "Oh, well, yeah. Of course." He paused a bit, testing the proverbial waters. "So, I figure we have to take her in if she's pregnant."

"Fitz," chided Jemma, "you're allergic."

"I know."

"And neither of us _like_ cats."

"I know!" The threw his hands up in the air, utterly helpless. "But what are we supposed to do? We can't just leave her there. Out in the wild."

"You're acting like we live in the African jungle. She's not going to get eaten by a tiger."

He turned to her, unamused. "You think we should leave a pregnant cat on her own?"

Jemma took a moment to consider it, and the prospect of having a cat in the house almost took all satisfaction out of being right.

"Ugh, Fitz," she said.

* * *

"Well," said Fitz, "we've got the food, the litter box, and the cat."

The cat, whom they had yet to name, jumped out of the carrier the moment Jemma opened it, scurrying to hide under the guest room bed.

"Well," said Jemma, "at least the vet says she's healthy. And she seems interested in staying out of the way."

Fitz considered this. "I suppose it's a good thing that she didn't choose our lab to nest in."

"What's good," said Jemma with a groan, "is that a cat's gestational period is significantly shorter than a human's. I don't think I could handle more than two weeks."

Fitz nodded, his head spinning. "Well, we'll take her back to get spayed as soon as she delivers the babies. Only thing is, what do we do with them all?"

Jemma shrugged. "Try to find a home for them, I guess. For the mother, too. Maybe we can put some posters up around town." 

"I guess," Fitz agreed. "I can do that tomorrow. In the meantime . . ."

"In the meantime," said Jemma, "you promised me that you would paint the nursery."

Fitz sighed, remembering the cans of paint that lay waiting for him in the next room. He folded his arms in defiance, standing firm even when Jemma came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and placed a kiss on his shoulder. "Come on Fitz," she said, her tone deceptively sweet, "you know the smell of paint nauseates me."

"The smell of everything nauseates you," he countered.

"So you agree," she said. She swung around in front of him, and he felt her pregnant belly at his back, on his side, and then on his stomach as she looked lovingly into his eyes. When she stood on her toes to kiss him, he could do nothing but oblige. "You've been so helpful," she said between kisses, "and I just think . . . that if the nursery was finished . . . I would feel so much better about everything."

Her lips were soft and her hands were in his hair, and this was exactly how she'd convinced him to let her have a baby in the first place. Clearly, Fitz was no match for her. Still, he decided to give her time to make her case. 

"Are you worried?" he asked, moving to kiss the corner of her mouth, her jawline, her neck. 

"Not really," she assured him, clutching at his curls, "but we've just got so much to do, and _umph_!"

Fitz smiled into the kiss, reveling in the way she relaxed against him. Her hands slipped out of his hair and onto his face, so that when the kiss ended, he had no choice but to gaze into her eyes.

"I love you," she said. "Now, will you please paint the nursery?"

Fitz stared at her, silently negotiating terms. Jemma rolled her eyes at him.

"Fine," she said. "I'll make lunch while you're doing it." Fitz lunged forward to steal a quick, final kiss and scurry off towards the nursery. "But it won't be anything fragrant!" she called after him.

He only stopped when he got the the threshold, taking in the white walls and wondering if there was a way to get it done quickly. 

"I'm serious, Fitz! I won't accept any complaining!"

"That's fine," he called over his shoulder. Surely, it wouldn't take him _that_ long, and if it did, Jemma would come in and tell him he could finish later. Besides, he'd covered the floor and taped everything before they'd gone to the vet. He opened a can and poured the baby blue paint into the tray.

Baby blue. He was going to have a son. 

He dipped a roller into the tray and started to work, being careful to contain the dripping. He was going to have a son, and shouldn't any son have a dad who knew how to paint a room? Well, their son would, at least. He pushed the roller up and down, up and down, finding a rhythm and losing himself in it. He wasn't sure how much time passed until he heard something meowing, and then felt their new lodger rubbing itself against his legs. Fitz sneezed.

"Are you alright?"

He turned to find Jemma in the doorway, her face crumpled into a look of disgust that may have been directed at the smell, the cat, or both. At the very least, he had no reason to believe it was for him.

He looked down at his legs, where the cat was still rubbing against him. "Why is she doing that?" 

"I think she's hungry," said Jemma. "I'll fill up that food bowl we got for her. Come on, cat," she called, "come on. I'll get lunch for you, too."

The cat didn't budge, continuing to give Fitz affection in a way that was starting to feel indecent. "I don't know what she's on about," Fitz called out, "she should know that there's only one woman who can seduce me."

The snort he heard from the kitchen was the best reward he could have earned. 

* * *

"We can't call him John," said Jemma. "I knew a John in school. He used to shoot spitballs at me."

Fitz frowned. "I hope you weren't in his class long."

"I wasn't," she affirmed, leaning her head against his chest. "But I don't want a common name for him, either. Nothing weird, but not something five other boys in his class will have."

"You mean like Leopold," Fitz said, earning a playful slap. 

"I won't subject him to that, if you don't want to. Though I'm not opposed to having it as a middle name. Something Leopold Fitz-Simmons?"

Fitz sneered at her. "Not if we want him to get through school unscathed."

"Alright," she allowed. "Can we name him after my father?"

He had to think about that one. "First name or middle name?"

"Middle name, I think. It'd go to his head otherwise."

"Okay," he said. "So, what? We find a first name that goes with the other two?"

"And isn't common," said Jemma. She lifted herself up, but Fitz stopped her from getting too far, looking up at her with a hurt expression. "Oh, hush," she said, extracting herself from his grasp, "I'm just going to to get my tablet. I'll be right back."

Fitz softened as he watched her go, though he did feel a pang at the loss of her touch. As she left the room, the cat came in, staring at Fitz curiously.

"What should we name the cat?" he called out. He sat back on the couch and watched the creature, who seemed to be passing some kind of judgment over Fitz. Why did it make him feel nervous?

Jemma came back in the room and almost tripped over her, sending a spike of fear and adrenaline through Fitz until Jemma righted herself. "I don't know," she answered. "What do you call someone who stays out of sight until they want food?"

"A teenage boy," Fitz answered.

Jemma smiled, rolling her eyes as she settled back into her rightful place. "Well, we can't call her that."

"I almost want to name her after Hunter."

Jemma frowned against his chest. "Why?"

"Because he'd hate it."

_"Fitz."_

He smiled, looking down at where she rested against him. Would he have peaceful moments like this when the baby came? Doubtful. He'll have to enjoy these while they last.

"She's not like Hunter at all," Jemma argued, "she knows how to keep her mouth shut."

Fitz gaped while Jemma laughed, burying her face in his chest. 

"Jemma."

"Well?" she defended. "It's true!" 

Fitz had to concede, but he kept mulling it over as Jemma searched for lists of popular boy's names to rule out. What did one name a cat, anyway? 

"It's called queening, right? When a cat gives birth? Why don't we call her that?"

"Queening?" Her voice dripped with disapproval. "Or, a variation of it, maybe? A name that has that meaning?" She opened a new tab in her browser, searching the baby name database. "Oh," she said, and put the tablet down.

"Couldn't be that bad," reasoned Fitz. "What is it?"

Jemma lifted the tablet back up to show him. "Raina."

"Oh," said Fitz, "yeah, no."

Jemma closed the tab and went back to scrolling through boy's names until the cat meowed. "Okay," she said, "I'll feed her."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can do it."

"It's alright," said Jemma, "I suddenly feel like taking a walk. But I'll take a rain check on that offer, to cash in when the baby comes." She crossed the room, but stopped to turn around and lean against the doorway. "Fitz, how are we supposed to name a human if we can't name a cat? He'll be stuck with that name for the rest of his life."

Fitz shrugged at her without an answer, but full of faith. "We'll think of something. We have time."

Jemma nodded, sighing as she turned to make her way to the kitchen. Fitz watched her until she disappeared from sight, then scowled at the cat.

"See what you've done?" The cat blinked back at him, curious. "You're messing with her head. I thought there'd be some sort of kinship between pregnant . . . women." The cat licked her paw and walked off, probably following the scent of her dinner. Fitz shook his head after her.

"Mangy beast."

* * *

Fitz closed the door behind him and shrugged at Jemma.

"Well, one thing's for certain: she does not want anyone in that room."

Jemma nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. "According to my research, that's normal. It's too bad, though. I'd love to see it."

"That makes one of us," said Fitz. Jemma shot him a look.

"It's the miracle of life, Fitz. What are you going to do when our baby comes?"

"Faint, probably."

_"Fitz."_

He smiled at her, feeling gratified when he received a reluctant smile in return. 

"I have a few leads on potential cat owners," he said. "One is a cat breeder who said she'd take the lot of them. Even the nameless mother."

Jemma hummed her approval. "I've been thinking about that, actually. Maybe it could be the name of an actual queen? Like Elizabeth? Well, maybe not _that_ , but . . ."

"Elizabeth isn't a name for a cat," said Fitz.

"What about Mary?"

Fitz thought about it for a moment, surprised when he didn't object. "Okay. Mary it is."

"Mary," Jemma affirmed. "Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, we can turn our attention to more important matters. Like the name of our child."

Fitz shrugged. "I have no idea what that would be."

"Well, then," said Jemma, "at least we're starting from a place of honesty."

Fitz opened his mouth to reply when he heard a meowing from the other side of the door. He and Jemma exchanged a look, and then hurried into the room to find Mary in the little box they'd set aside for her, licking three little kittens. Fitz felt a hand clutch at his shirt.

"Oh, Fitz," she said, "it's beautiful."

Fitz had to admit that it was. Mary looked up at them, proud and protective, and it seemed to Fitz that no one could ever be quite so regal as she was in that moment. For the first time since he first saw Mary's swollen belly, it occurred to him that he would be sad to see her go. Especially now, when she had such adorable offspring in tow.

"It'll be like this for our baby," whispered Jemma, almost reverent. "It'll be wonderful."

Fitz found her hand, twining his fingers with hers. Could there ever be any doubt? Hadn't she seen all the wonderful things they had made together? He looked down at Mary and imagined Jemma in a hospital bed, cradling their little boy and looking every bit as proud. Nine months was too long to wait for a moment like that, but maybe it was necessary. After all, it took a long time to get ready for something so special. 

"I love you," he said, hoping she'll understand what his meaning. In truth, he wasn't quite sure what he meant to say, only that felt too much to put into words. And, that he did love her, more than anything in the world. More than he thought he could ever love anyone.

And yet somehow, he suspected that he was only beginning to understand love at all.

"I love you," she said back, and he not only knew that she understood him, but that she matched him; together, they stood at the same precipice, looking over the same shared future.

"Are you glad we took her in?" Jemma asked. Fitz smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "Kind of surprising, isn't it?"

Jemma smiled in agreement, pulling Fitz behind and wrapping his arms around her, placing his hands on her belly. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent, letting his body mold into hers as they watched the beginnings of life.

"You know what this means, Jemma?"

Jemma looked up at him, questioning.

"It means," said Fitz," that we should probably get a dog."

Jemma shook her head, rolling her eyes at him.

"Ugh, Fitz."

**Author's Note:**

> What is nuclear robotics? I couldn't tell you. All I know is that Conveyor Belt of Love is a real show. I hope the worm-eating one isn't.
> 
> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


End file.
